Truth
by ImaItrew
Summary: Fenris has walked out on Hawke following their night together. Hawke has dispatched her trusty dwarven sidekick to find out why, but Fenris is not forthcoming so Varric makes a deal: A story for a story. Sequel to "The Deepest Road." Fenris/Hawke. Varric/Bianca.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all, so this is my new fic... hope you enjoy!

"You're staring." The elf's eyes were narrowed in accusation.

"I'm not staring," replied his companion. "I'm waiting for an answer, my broody friend. It's called 'having a conversation'."

"I'm not dignifying your 'question' with an answer."

"Oh come on, Elf, what the hell happened? I don't know many people who'd get into Hawke's bed just to kick her out of it…"

The swordsman's eyebrow arched, making Varric take pause. He knew that look. It was a look that said, simply, 'shut up.' A sense of self-preservation made him take heed, and he fell silent, but his gaze did not flicker from the taller man's intense stare. Not until the bar girl leaned in to take their now empty tankards, and both men raised their eyes to greet the intruder.

Varric smiled, "Two more please, dear. I'll have a hot rum and this friendly fellow wants another ale."

The girl was pretty enough, and gave him a smile as she nodded. However, when she caught sight of Fenris' expression she bustled away quickly and quietly. Varric watched her disappear into the crowd around the bar, smiling to himself as some of the more 'friendly' patrons greeted certain parts of her more enthusiastically than others.

Fenris sighed. "I wonder how different working in here is to being a slave. Taking orders, serving the whims of others, others looking at you like your nothing but an object… " He mused, watching after the girl.

Varric was relieved to see his rigid stance had dropped a little and his eyes had widened. Good. The more relaxed the Elf was the more malleable he would be "I don't see many similarities. I mean in here, you have good company, good drink, you get paid and you can have sex with…"

Fenris' blush rushed to his cheeks. "I had se…!"

His objection trailed away when Varric raised his eyebrows. "For some reason… given recent events… I find that _highly_ unlikely, Elf."

"Hawke sent you, didn't she? She told you…" Fenris asked dejectedly.

"No. Well, yes. Hawke just wants to know that you're alright. _Isabella _on the other hand wants all the gory details…"

"Gory details…?" The swordsman queried warily.

"Um… I think one of them was does _that_ light up too…?"

The blush returned, more furiously than before. "_Venhedis_!" His fists crashed to the table as he rose from his chair. "I will not take this abuse…!"

"Calm down, Elf." Varric gestured lazily for his friend to retake his seat. "Believe me, she can ask you _that_ for herself… I don't think I could live with the mental image…" He chortled a little uncomfortably. "No. I'm more interested about what happened _after_… she has no idea why you left, and you know better than anyone how easily you can wound her…"

"I **told** Hawke why I left." His brow furrowed, but it seemed more with worry than with anger. The elf's tone was quieter too, defensive. Varric wasn't surprised, he knew bluster when he saw it.

"Yes, yes… some lunacy about having a flashback. That's hardly an explanation."

Fenris nodded his thanks as the barmaid returned and placed his tankard in front of him.

"I… don't think I _can_ explain." He grunted as she sauntered away. "I don't think I even understand it myself…"

"Try me." Varric leaned back in his chair, a friendly smile printed on his lips.

Fenris observed him for a moment. "Not a chance."

"Oh come _on_! It's me! Remember? The oh-so-charming dwarf who listened to your troubles and gave you advice in the Deep Roads? Advice that you _took_ as I recall…"

"And look where that got me."

"In Hawke's bed?"

"In _here_ answering _your_ fool questions!"

"My advice was sound, Elf, it's not _my_ fault your goods didn't deliver…"

"There's nothing wrong with my _'goods.'_ The problem is that my past caught up with me… again…"

"Seems to me, the issue is your head, not your…?"

The dark scowl was enough to silence him, though not through fear. Varric chuckled, "probed a nerve, did I?"

"You know, if you ask any dwarf in the Carta, they'll tell you that being short isn't a defence from these brands…"

Varric took a leisurely swig from his mug before replying. "Yeah yeah, heard it all before. You ever consider not acting like the biggest brood factory in Kirkwall…?"

"No."

"Think about it. Might help your chances with women."

"I had a chance…"

"And you blew it. What does that tell you?"

Fenris sighed heavily. "If you're trying to get me to talk, you could try fewer insults and more alcohol." He paused, inspecting his mug. "Make that a _lot_ more."

Varric grinned. "Now you're talking my language, Elf. What say we get a tab and go back to my quarters? I have a proposition for you…"

Fenris blinked. "Are you Isabella in disguise?"

"Not _that_ sort of proposition. I have plenty of other sources to tap… if you get my drift…" Fenris scowled, so Varric pressed on hurriedly. "Here's the deal. You tell me why you left Hawke, I'll tell you a truth about me. Anything you like. Bullshit not included." The elf's eyebrow arched again, this time in disbelief, and the dwarf chuckled. "Alright, bullshit an optional extra."

"Who's option?"

"Well… what good artist never took a little license?"

"Hmmmmm… I think that's an offer I'll take you up on." Fenris' eyes wandered lazily across the dwarf's small frame, eventually coming to rest on the crossbow leaning against the table leg. "Fine, dwarf, I'll tell you what happened with Hawke, if you tell me why you named your crossbow 'Bianca'."

Varric felt a stone slide down his throat and into his stomach. He hid his nerves, plastering his trademark well-practised smile across his face. "And why do you want to know about that?"

"The way you fondle your weapon disturbs me," came the frank response.

"Well," the storyteller chuckled, "sometimes worthwhile weapons need a worthwhile fondle… it's not something _you'd_ understand."

"This was your bargain, _merchant, _and those are my terms."

Varric sighed theatrically. He tipped the remainder of the rum to his lips and beckoned one of the maids over. "Suit yourself, Elf," he said, casting his eyes over Fenris' half-full mug. "Catch up with me when you're man enough to finish drinking that."


	2. Spectres

Hey guys, second chapter up. Thanks for the follows and reviews, hope you enjoy...

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"It was warm, I remember that. I was in a small courtyard, with the sun shining down on me."

They were in Varric's permanently rented room at the Hanged Man. The dwarf was sat at the table, his tankard hand resting gently on the wooden surface, as he watched Fenris shift uneasily on his feet.

"There's a girl in front of me, red hair. She's taller than me and looking at me as if she knows me."

"Your mother?" Varric offered, listening to the tale intently.

"No." The elf shook his head. "I think too young, but I could be wrong. I'm not sure…"

Varric leaned backwards in his chair, resting his boots on a cushioned footstool. "So go on, you're in this courtyard with this girl… what is she doing?"

"She had red hair. An elf. And she frowned at me… but not in reprimand."

"What did she say?"

He grunted. "Leto…"

"Leto? What's Leto…?"

Fenris scowled at him and snatched his drink from the table. He took a long swig and snapped at his companion. "How should I know?!"

"Ok ok… you don't know. What happened then?" Varric leaned closer. The tightness of his friend's tone told the dwarf that this was a difficult subject for him to speak of, so he knew complacency or flippancy on his own part would likely cause the swordsman to shut off.

Fenris gave a heavy sigh and his shoulders drooped. He looked almost _vulnerable._ If you could ignore the huge sword and spiked mail armour, at any rate. "I wish I knew. I know there was more, but I can't reach it. It's like the memory has been stripped from me, no matter how hard I tried to recall. Before I knew it I was back with Hawke."

Varric couldn't help but notice the disappointment in the man's voice when he mentioned her name. To his surprise, he found himself irritated by it. "I would have thought that that's where you would want to be?"

Fenris blinked. "And how _exactly_ have I offended you?"

Varric wasn't sure he could answer him in a way he would understand. "I'm just a little uncertain, Elf, why you would rather reach for the past than take what's in front of you." He paused, silently debating whether to leave it there, but his irritation won out. "Waiting for _you_ to make up your damned mind, I would like to add."

"This was a bad idea," Fenris groaned. "You don't understand."

"Then educate me." Varric leaned back, his tone carrying a decidedly harsher edge than earlier.

"Danarius has gone to great lengths to ensure my misery and compliance."

"Yes, I don't think there's anyone in Hightown who doesn't know that…"

There was a pause, and the dwarf couldn't tell if he had offended the elf or upset him. "What if he takes Hawke from me?"

"Um… what?" It was Varric's turn to blink in surprise. Although there were many chinks in the ex-slave's armour, it was unheard of for him to point them out himself.

"What if he took her from me? The one thing that makes my life something… _more_. How could I even go on?"

A silent and heavy moment passed between the two. "I hope the Maker broke the mould when he produced you, Elf, I'm not sure the world could cope with many more."

"You're not taking me seriously-!"

"It would be like… a _Blight of Brood_…" Varric chuckled to himself, "I think I like that…" He trailed off, repeating the phrase under his breath.

The mirth was masked when he caught sight of the swordsman's black expression.

"Oh come on, you've got to admit it sounds a little weak? Take Hawke from you? And how do you propose he would do that? Hawke's a big girl, she can take care of herself. And if you _dare_ to suggest otherwise to _her_…"

"I know, but…" He sighed again, softly this time, and began absently pacing the length of the room. When he spoke it was with a note of regret. "I found refuge from him before... It did not stop him from reclaiming me."

"What happened to …?"

"They did not meet happy endings." He anticipated the question and cut it off abruptly, leaving Varric in no doubt as to the fate of those who had dared help him. "Any happiness I have ever known has been taken from me. Either by force, or by trickery and magic."

"Fenris, you can't let your past keep Hawke from you."

The elf stopped pacing and stood staring out of the window. "I cannot grieve for what I will never know, but I can know that I should. I can still be haunted by ghosts even though I don't know who they are."

"Hawke won't accept that…"

"I know…" he turned his head and shot Varric a serious look. "That's why you're not going to tell her."

Varric grunted. "Well I've got to tell her something."

"Make something up, I hear you're good at it."

"So… that's it? You're _pushing_ Hawke away from you because you're frightened someone might _take_ her from you."

"I'm aware it sounds stupid…"

"It doesn't just _sound_ stupid. Your grand plan is to make yourself and Hawke miserable because some crazy mage has an obsession with glow in the dark elves… Geez, even Blondie doesn't get this depressing…."

"The day I kill him. That's the day I'll tell her. Nothing will stand between us then."

"And what if someone else puts on the moves in the meantime? You remember what happened with Prince Charming, I assume…?"

"It depends on that person." His face took on a dark look. "On whether they deserve her."

"And there's no way I can change your mind?"

"I cannot be with her whilst looking over my shoulder all the time…"

"I'll take that as a 'no', then?"

"It's for the best."

Varric stared him down for a minute, and growled to himself in frustration when the elf's gaze did not flicker. "You're one stubborn bastard, I'll give you that."

"I'll do what it takes to protect her. Is your curiosity sated yet?"

"That's something I cannot even begin to fathom right now."

"Good. Your turn."

"My turn for what?" The dwarf asked innocently.

Fenris raised his mug to his smirking lips with a languid motion that made dwarf suddenly uneasy. "You know 'what', time to make good on that trade, dwarf…"

"'Trade' is dependent on the quality of the merchandise… if I can't even _tell_ Hawke your story then what good is it to me?"

"I could tell another story if you prefer?"

"I'm all ears, my broody friend."

"I could tell Aveline that you're stealing the Guard patrol rosters and selling them to the Coterie? I think that's an entertaining one…"

Varric's face dropped. "Um… Heh… Well now, Elf, what would you know about that?" The dwarf squirmed under the white-haired man's scrutiny, he ran a finger around his suddenly tight collar.

"The plans are on your bedside table and I saw you talking to Anya downstairs."

"… How do you know Anya?"

"I pay to have the docks watched for any signs of the arrival of my former Master. Now stop changing the subject."

"_Fine_!" The dwarf shook his head, accepting the defeat. A little annoyed at himself for leaving such obvious clues. "I'll tell you… but if you ever tell a soul you'll regret it."

Fenris leaned in to greet Varric's serious gaze with his own. "That's fine. The same goes for you."

"Well, then… where to begin…?"

"Bianca was beautiful. Had the brightest eyes you ever saw… and the cutest nose… we went everywhere together. I couldn't bear to be parted from her, and neither could she from me.

"But one day… business called, and I had to leave her with the boys. Now, you've got to understand something Elf, this was long before I'd made a name for myself here in Kirkwall. I was not the charming, well-spoken and debonair dwarf you see before you now; I was brash, and naïve… and still with the Carta.

We lived in the sewers, and the mission, well, it was too dangerous to take her along. I'll never forget it.

I returned and she was simply gone. I looked high and low, all through the sewers, every ally in the city. No trace.

The gang I left her with told me that she had run away."

Varric rested his head in his palm and rubbed his eyes. "They said that, but I knew better.

"So when they left for the latest cargo hit I searched the camp and questioned the half-wit they left with their gear. And that's how I found out…"

Varric sighed heavily and deeply, and he glanced back up towards his captive audience. "The bastards… they killed her… and _ate_ her…"

Rather than empathy however, the elf's eyebrows sprung up his forehead. "They _ate_ her…?" He enquired sceptically.

"Swear down..." He affirmed.

"Was…'_Bianca' _by any chance, not a fellow dwarf?"

"What difference does that make…?"

"Was she, in fact, your pet nug?"

"How dare you! Pets have a very special place in the heart, Elf. That night I went and bought a crossbow and when they returned I shot them all. After that, I called her, _Bianca_." He paused for effect. "Well, there it is, Elf. There's my story."

Fenris' lips were pursed. Varric took a swig from his tankard before bothering to respond to his study. "What?"

"Hawke's favourite colour is green."

"No it's not! Everyone knows that Hawke's favourite colour is…"

"See? I can spout bullshit too."

"Now just what is it that you've got against nugs?"

"You're a conman, dwarf. Remind me not to trust you with my back in the future." The chair scraped as the swordsman rose to stand.

"That's a little extreme, isn't it?" Varric spluttered.

"No. We exchanged words of honour, now you have what you want and you have taken yours back. Your words I mean, not your honour. I'm not convinced you had any of that to begin with." He moved to the door.

"Jeez! Sit down. Maker! A man is allowed to have his secrets you know."

"Then a man shouldn't trade with them."

With that, the elf opened the door with a scowl and stalked out of the room. "Hold up Elf," Varric called after him, voice serious enough to make him pause. "If you're dead set on this, shout the barkeep over and take a seat."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks. Just cold hard truths and lots of booze."

Fenris found himself walking back into the room and taking a seat, despite his better judgement. "I'm listening."

Varric leaned forwards in his chair, his fingers steepled together. "You'll need to hear the _whole_ story…"


	3. Surprises

Sorry this has been so long... laptop died :( Hope this is worth the wait

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_"I was young, then. Not half the dwarf you see before you now. It was the first time I'd worked with the Carta. Of course we'd had dealings, but it was the first time I'd been sent on an assignment with them. So there we were, dragging our arses up Sundermount… We weren't expecting much resistance; it was long before Daisy's clan came from Ferelden…" _

"Hurry up, Short Arse; we'll never get to the top with all the stopping!"

Varric grunted irately, "I'm only stopping to pick up everything you keep dropping." He tossed the compass back to the older dwarf with a little more force than was probably necessary. If Bellam noticed, he didn't show it, just caught it and stuffed it in the same goddam pocket that everything else fell out of.

"That's enough from you. Why did I have to get stuck with the newbie?"

"I don't think it's you who pulled the short straw, Wrinkles…"

"I heard that, I'm not deaf you know…."

"Of course not… just senile…"

"Would you two keep your voices down?" Varric's eyes followed the voice to find a shadowy figure approaching from the trees. He hadn't even noticed the dark-haired swordsman's presence until he had spoken… an impressive feat given the size of his armour… but nevertheless he was a welcome sight.

"Ferdinand! Any sign of our missing damsel?"

"Missing damsel?" The warrior snorted, "If we're not finding Bianca, it's because she doesn't want to be found, not because she's gotten lost."

"Quite a girl, that one," Bellam agreed. "If I were ten years younger…"

"And ten times better looking..," cut in the newcomer.

"I'm not taking that from you, Ferdinand, you ugly bastard…"

"So why are we looking for this broad if she doesn't want to be found?" Varric asked, confused.

"Well, it seems that something went wrong with the job. Bianca came up here to make sure everything went smooth like, but something's gone bad. Cargo escaped, clients not being true to their word… it could be anything…"

It was a long time before Varric said anything. He turned the concept over in his mind, not quite believing he'd heard right. "Cargo _escaped_…?! What the hell, are you packing nugs into barrels or something?"

"Nugs?" Bellam's wry laughter gave Varric pause. "You wish, kid."

"Anyway," said Ferdinand, stamping his foot against the cold. "We need to keep moving. Bianca will find us when she wants us."

Varric glanced longingly at the dwindling embers of their cook-fire. "Why do we need to keep moving?" he asked. "She can find us just as easily here as anywhere else, surely."

Bellam gave him a weighted look that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. The lengthening shadows lent him a menacing air as he leaned closer. "Because, boy, if Bianca is hiding, then she's hiding _from_ something…"

…..

Varric lay on the ground, nothing but a thin blanket between him and the chill air. Despite his exhaustion from the hard day's travel, he'd been frustratingly awake for what seemed like hours. Counting nugs hadn't been much use, though he'd never really expected that old wives' trick to work.

Not for the first time, he began to regret his decision to join the expedition. Of course, it hadn't really been his to make. Bartrand had volunteered him, as he was so inclined to do.

_"You're the talker, Brother, go make nice with the high-strung bitch… we'll be rich for sure if we can pull this one off…"_

_"I thought I was just going to make nice?"_

_"Well whatever… just get her round to our way of thinking, if we want to make it in this pustule of a city we better get the right connections!"_

Varric sighed, not for the first time, as he realised the night had grown a little less dark. If yesterday had been tough going, the same again on no sleep was not a happy thought. _Dammit Bartrand!_

He had no idea what 'Bianca' might be like. Her reputation as a ball-buster preceded her, as did her status as one of the more astute members of the Carta. Either way, he needed to make an impression, and what better way than dragging his arse up Sundermount to prove his mettle. He was no fool though; he knew there was a chance that she'd see right through him… and see Bartrand's sticky fingers everywhere. It wasn't like his brother didn't have a reputation of his own…

A rustle in the grass made Varric tense, and his senses rush into action. There was _something_ out there, though he wasn't sure what. It was obviously trying to move quietly, though judging by the amount of noise it was either very bad at it, or very _big._ His hand moved slowly to the crossbow at his side, as he struggled to control his breathing. He was no outdoorsman, but he knew that creatures didn't stay alive by being bad at sneaking around.

The wooden stock felt reassuringly solid in his hands, and his nerves slowly calmed. A heavy thud behind him announced the presence of one of his companions. He'd been so focused on the animal out there that he hadn't noticed anything else.

"Don't move," Bellam hissed quietly. "Whatever it is, it is too close now, boy. Just lay low and let it pass."

Varric obeyed, though he found his grip tightening around the trigger. He could hear footsteps now. Heavy thuds in quick succession, as though some giant insect were scurrying through the undergrowth. Several times, he expected to see the creature burst from the treeline into their clearing, but the steps just increased in volume. Had it been so far away? How big _was_ the damn bastard? The young dwarf felt a cold chill cling to his skin and he closed his eyes tightly. Surely you couldn't fight something like this.

He lay there for the longest time, listening to his death rapidly approaching. The earth shook beneath him, and then suddenly it stopped. Varric hesitantly opened his eyes, and felt a horrific stab of fear to find a huge shadowy form hanging overhead. He couldn't tell how high up it was, in the gloom, but the massive arches of its five legs gave an impressive sense of scale.

The creature seemed to investigate the camp, using its legs to probe tentatively around, but evidently found nothing of interest. After a heart stopping moment, it gathered itself up and scuttled back into the trees at an alarming speed.

After a while, the thundering footsteps began to fade, moving further into the distance, and Varric let out a long rattling breath.

"What _was_ that?" He asked aloud.

"Something that you're not ready for, lad," answered Bellam. "Doubt even I could take down something that size from so short a distance."

"That thing was miles away when we heard it!"

"Now that depends on how fast it was moving and how long its stride is, doesn't it?"

It was a sobering thought. Did Bellam know what that thing was? Was that what was 'chasing' them?

A roaring snore to his left, however, ripped such insecurities from his mind and he heard a nervous snicker escape from his own mouth.

"Has that bastard slept through all that?"

Bellam grunted. "That nug-humper would sleep through a sodding dragon attack."

"Or a Blight…"

A sudden laugh from the treeline startled them. "Either way," a female voice said, "He's not going to be sleeping much longer."

Varric cursed to himself, embarrassed. This was the second time in twenty-four hours that he'd been snuck up on. He shot to his feet, crossbow still in hand. The newcomer was obviously a fellow dwarf, though the traditional forged armour had been replaced with jet black cloth and leather. Her head and lower face were covered with a hood and mask, which cast a dark shadow over her eyes.

Bellam seemed to relax, giving a throaty chuckle that made his grey beard wobble comically in the gloom. "Dammit, Kiddo, you're getting good."

"And _you're_ getting sloppy," she replied, though the lightness in her voice betrayed her humour. "Setting up camp in the path of a damned varterral, and _falling asleep_ of all things…" She paused for effect. "And how many times have I asked you not to call me that, Bellam?" She pulled away the cloth and pushed her hood back, revealing a mischievous grin.

_…"That was the first time I saw her. She wasn't what you'd call a 'graceful beauty' that's for sure…" Varric chortled, "but there was something about her that made me take her in. She was steady, that I could tell from just looking at her, and she was confident…. And the way she booted Ferdinand to his feet made me realise where she had gotten her reputation from…"_

_"He did not fight back?" Fenris queried._

_"Nope. Man took it like a school boy being caned." The merchant chuckled, taking yet another swig from his tankard._

_"He respected her authority, clearly."_

_"Maybe, I think he was just grateful she didn't aim for the balls."_

_The swordsman smiled wistfully and fondly._

_"What?"_

_"She sounds like Hawke."_

_Varric shifted uncomfortably in his seat, it wasn't a comparison that he really wanted his 'captive audience' to make. "Anyway, I'll continue… unless you've any other interruptions?"_

_"Actually, I have."_

_"You're not a very good listener, you know that? What is it?" The dwarf sighed with irritation, clearly eager to continue with the tale._

_"You knew of the vartarrel? Yet you said nothing when we faced it."_

_"What's there to tell? I fought it before, it came back, and by now it'll probably be there again."_

_"You could have been a little more forthcoming with this information."_

_"And face the million questions from Daisy? Don't think so. Anyway…"_

_"You're being very evasive…"_

_"… Elf, do you want to hear this story or not?"_

_"I'm listening."_

_"Good."_


	4. Trials and Tribulations

Sorry for this being ages again, life gets in the way apparently... hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for the reviews and follows :)

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Varric heaved in a breath. As he shouldered the uncomfortable burden of their camping equipment he restrained the groan that would betray his weariness.

"Something wrong?" The woman next to him asked innocently, though her wry smile betrayed the intended sarcasm.

"Not at all… though I'm a little confused why I'm carrying _everything_."

"You'd prefer I helped…?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well then, there's no point complaining."

"Couldn't Bellam and Ferdinand have taken some supplies?"

"You want someone as old that rock and the one protecting him being slowed down with luggage when a giant insect is on the rampage?"

Varric paused. "But you're ok with _me_ being hindered?"

"Objections?"

Varric contained himself, and managed to exude only a low grunt, carefully avoiding catching sight of the smirk he was sure was across her lips. If this _was_ a test, it was a tough one. Even Bartrand hadn't put him through the paces like this. The sweat must have shone on his forehead, glaringly obvious to the languid mannered woman beside him. He couldn't suppress the sigh as he shifted his shoulders to redistribute the weight.

"I know it's only been a few metres so I shouldn't have to ask but... do you need to rest?"

He couldn't hide the scowl. "I'm _fine_." He puffed out.

"As long as you're sure." She returned with an almost sing song voice.

"Well I know why they call you the 'Ball Buster' now…" The merchant muttered beneath his breath, although apparently not quietly enough.

"I'm not taking that from _Bartrand's_ bitch…"

…

Varric ached all over. It wasn't the first trek that he'd been on, but it was certainly the most burdened. The torrent of sweat from his brow had been clawing at his eyes for so long that he barely noticed the sting, and his feet trudged wearily forward with automatic, laboured steps. Needless to say, when Bianca stepped from the shadows after yet another speedy scouting venture and announced 'we'll camp here for the evening', it was the most beautiful utterance he had ever heard.

Varric let the packs drop clumsily to the floor, and quickly followed them.

"Tired, are we?"

"Fuck off."

"Bartrand won't be happy if he hears you're not playing nice." That same sodding sing-song tone again. Varric was sure he would have felt fire rising from his stomach… if he could feel anything beyond the dull aching in his limbs and muscles.

"He can fuck off as well."

There was a dry chuckle. "Nothing like some hard labour to separate the men from the boys."

"… Did you see anything when you were scouting?"

"Nothing new."

"Then maybe you won't mind shutting up for a few hours so I can get some shut-eye." He knew his temper was winning out. He knew his weariness was betraying his insufficiencies. He knew that he was failing her test, and she had every right to send him packing… for speaking to her like that _alone_.

But rather than the rebuke or beating he was expecting, he sensed her kneel beside him. "You know, you might be more comfortable in that grass patch over there."

A breath exuded from the merchant's weary form, rattling between his teeth. She was right, of course, he'd regret spending the night perched on top of the assortment of twigs and pebbles on which he was currently positioned. But honestly, the thought of opening his eyes and _moving_ another step made him feel nauseous. The decision was taken from him, however, when he felt a strong pull at his limp arm. He scrambled to his uncertain feet, fully prepared for the pain of falling flat on his face… but he was surprised when he fell into sturdy armour, and felt a pair of hands grip under his shoulders.

"One foot at a time, Newbie." The unexpected softness in her voice made the young dwarf obey. "We're almost at the summit. You need to sleep well, you're going to need your strength."

Her voice faded as Varric fell into the cool, soft grass and exhaustion claimed him.

…

"Are we feeling better then?"

Every muscle in Varric's body still cringed at each movement, but at least he had slept like a sodding log. He twisted rather gingerly to face her, masking the twinge in his back as he did so. "Say what you want, but if _you'd_ been lugging all that crap we'd still be halfway down the mountain…"

"That's why you're here, Packhorse…" She responded cheerily, though with a languid demeanour that Varric really quite envied. She looked different in the daylight too, it was almost as if sunshine suited her… _a bizarre thing to say about a dwarf_, he thought wryly.

"Glad to be of service…"

"You'll be even _gladder_ to know that from here on in we're leaving the gear."

"What…."

"It's far too heavy to carry up such hills…"

Varric paused, suddenly feeling like he was being beyond mocked. "… then excuse me for asking, but what in the name of the sodding stone did I have to break my back bringing it this far for?"

"Are you hungry, Newbie?" She asked.

Varric's intended haughtiness was betrayed by his stomach as it gave a rather loud rumble. He felt his cheeks redden, although it did nothing to soothe his ire. "…maybe…"

"That's why."

Her eyes turned to him, with that same amused yet sage like expression written across her features. Although he felt genuine irritation, it faded under her gaze and it became almost a comfortable resignation. She would put him through his paces and she would accept no weakness on his part, but in return she would watch his back.

He clambered to his feet, took in one more lingering view of the mountainous peaks of Sundermount and made his way to the supplies. He suppressed the groan as he knelt beside them and began rooting through the first bag he came to. "Try the one behind it. There's some bread and dried meats."

"Well what's in this one?" Varric huffed stubbornly clinging to the current bag he held, a little annoyed that she hadn't pointed that out sooner.

"Bedding. One behind it, Newbie, and throw me some bread while you're at it."

"Why didn't _you_ get some earlier?"

"Why have a dog and bark yourself…?"

Varric rolled his eyes. "If you're not a dog why bark at all?"

He heard her chuckle. "Continue to amuse me, Newbie, and I may consider keeping you."

Varric pulled the loaf and the thinly wrapped package free from its bindings, tugged a crust from the end and tossed it rather cack-handedly to the woman on the nearby rock. Although a poor throw she caught it ably and began her inspection. Varric stifled the laughter that threatened, the way she peered at the crust make her resemble some form of rodent_. I mean, come on, what could possibly be wrong with a… _His silent question was answered when the rejected slab of bread smacked into the side of his head.

"What?!"

"I don't like crusts."

…

He had been warned they were getting close. Varric felt a mixture of excitement and nerves brewing in his belly. He already regretted cramming so much bread and ham down his throat, with his stomach making threatening gurgles which he was sure would alert any huge spider thing in the vicinity to their presence.

_"It's not just the Varterrel we've got to be careful of here, Newbie. There's spiders the size of cows and skeletons that aren't exactly less lively than my grandfather." _Her earlier words hummed around his head, making him snap to attention every few minutes or so. He knew this was his chance, but he also knew that this was his chance to blow everything. That thought alone made his palms sweat. This wasn't just about proving himself for Bartrand's sake anymore, this was about proving himself for his _own_ sake, because for some reason he wanted this _damned woman_ to see him as something more than Bartrand's plaything. Why? He didn't know. He'd never really cared about it before. He did the talking, his brother did the necessary nefarious deeds, it wasn't exactly an honest living but it was a formula that worked.

The fact that he was questioning it _now_ of all times pissed him off no end.

A scurrying to his right brought his senses rushing back in a surge of adrenaline. These were smaller, speedier legs than their quarry possessed. The crossbow at his back fell deftly into his waiting hands and he took aim into the thick of the trees. He traced their movements, listening carefully, not firing until the unnamed beasts burst from the foliage. He noticed also, with not a small amount of satisfaction, that Bianca had readied her stance after taking prompt from his own movements.

The twin arachnids that came forward were little competition for the wave of arrows and steel that greeted them. The one to the right was overcome swiftly by Varric's skill with the crossbow and Bianca made short work of the other. Although the fight was over in seemingly minutes, the merchant's heart refused to slow. He had passed the first hurdle, he just prayed that the next would be as simple.

"You did good, Newbie."

Although desperately seeking a retort for his new, and _unwelcome_, nickname, Varric just nodded toward her dumbly.

To his immense relief, rather than press him further for words that seemingly were escaping him, she accepted this and turned to move on. "You were faster off the mark than me too. _Good_. I need people I can rely on."

"Are you saying you trust me?"

"No. I'm saying you're adequate enough to trust… but trust is earned, my friend. And you've ample opportunity to do so in the near future. The Varterral escaped just over this ridge, so its cave must be somewhere beyond."

"…That doesn't sound overly precise…."

"You think the Tevinters would risk drawing that thing out a distance? The cage must have been just beyond the cave's mouth. No risk is too small to consider when it's their precious cargo…"

Varric hesitated, he was sure he sensed some venom in her tone, but if he was too tired or merely too nervous to pursue it he didn't really know. "Well they didn't consider _something_ if the damned thing got dragged half way down Sundermount and then got out."

"Get dragged? No, it got out here and escaped the only way it knew how. By making ground and coming back once it had regained its strength."

"… Why do I get the feeling you're not being completely honest with me?"

"….Wanna go back down and get those supplies, Newbie?"

"Not really."

"Shut up then."

He took the hint and left it at that, though something began gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was going on here, and he wasn't certain of what. Though street smarts had never particularly been his forte, smarts in general _were_… and there was something not quite right about the situation. Still, he had no desire to lug his already sore behind back down the steep peaks for packs they didn't need, so he kept his thoughts to himself and followed her as she made her way steadily and cautiously down over the ridge to the clearing below.

At the end of the decline, they realised that they were stood on a ledge over-looking the clearing. After a moment spent judging the distance, Bianca motioned that she was going to jump down. As the woman prepared for the drop, Varric felt the ground beneath his feet start to rumble. His heart and stomach began to jump as he noticed the small pebbles around them start to shake, with an unnaturally irregular speed that only seemed to get faster. Without thinking, he grabbed at Bianca's outstretched arm and snatched her backwards. They tumbled together into a groove of the hill. The thundering of the rocks seemed to echo now, but that did not stop Bianca turning on him, with ire in her eyes.

He was almost grateful for the huge and terrifying frame of the Varterral that burst into the clearing, distracting her attention. They lay there, watching it for a moment, before it turned and scurried behind a cliff of rock. The vibrations faded away and they were once more left alone.

"Close by cave in bloody deed."

"Told you, Tevinter Magisters don't take chances."

…..

_"What…?"_

_"You're selling something here, Dwarf."_

_"You asked to hear the story and that's what I'm telling you."_

_"You say you once had general smarts?"_

_"Oh yeah, that's great, why don't you kick me when I'm bearing my soul to you, I heard Tevinter Magisters love doing that…"_

_The elf's face darkened," If you __**ever**__ compare…"_

_"Yeah, I know. You'll rip into my chest with your blue shiny hand and stop my heart beating. But we both know that's not going to happen, don't we? So, do you want to hear the rest of it or should we call it a night?"_

_"I told you about Hawke. This is the trade, Dwarf."_

_"A little less attitude then, if you please. And more ale…" _


	5. Rocky Road

"I thought the idea was we were just making sure the damned thing went back in?" Varric queried, with more than a little irritation… the way she was sniffing around the mouth of the cave made him nervous of what she was looking for. But as seemed to be the trend, she was forthcoming with neither answers nor instruction.

"Keep your voice down, do you _want_ it to come out and fuck you up?"

"Exactly my point, why are we even still here?"

She grunted a curse before turning to him. Her movements were stiff, agitation replacing her usual languid demeanour. And that was enough to scare the shit out of him. "I can't shake the feeling they're nearby."

"Bellam and…?"

"The Tevinters. Hadriana's a tough task master, but nothing compared to the Magister she serves… I'd be amazed if they let the beast go this easily."

Suddenly Varric understood. "Bellam and Fernando were patrolling for their scouts and we were to keep the Varterral safe."

"Bingo. Keep this up and I might start to think you've got a brain…"

"But why were we _protecting_ it?"

"Use your imagination." She responded curtly, making Varric aware beyond all doubt that this was a subject not to press her on, not yet anyway. "Be on your guard, because if I know Hadriana she'll have no problem fighting dirty… and Blood Mages aren't people you want to have the advantage."

….

_Varric frowned in confusion as the elf's face contorted into a scowl. "Something I said?"_

_"That name…" His voice was low, and the dwarf knew the warning signs immediately… and an aggressive, very drunk Fenris was not something he especially wanted to deal with. __**Especially **__with the bar so full of 'merry' patrons just beyond the door to vent his anger on._

_"Bianca?"_

_"Hadriana."_

_"You don't like it? I can always call her 'Blood Mage A' from now on if you like?"_

_"What was the name of her Master?"_

_The dark glint in the man's eyes was enough to make the dwarf severely uncomfortable, he knew there was something to this, but without knowing what it was he couldn't do anything to ease the situation… but he couldn't find out without first exacerbating it._

_ "I don't know… I can't say I spoke to her much… too busy, um, __**dodging **__the scary Blood Mage when she was trying to kill me…"_

_Fenris seemed to settle, though he still seemed agitated. "Denarius had an apprentice by that name."_

_"I take it you didn't get along?"_

_"I don't know many people who get along with their tormenters."_

_"Would you like to hear how we handed her own backside to her?"_

_To his immense surprise a low, hearty, almost terrifying chuckle rumbled from the elf's chest. "I do."_

_…_

The sun had long passed midday, and Varric was definitely feeling the boredom. They'd been sat here all day, hidden behind a pair of solid boulders above the mouth of the cave. His throat was parched from the arid air, and he had a frustrating itch just behind his left shoulder that refused to be ignored.

Bianca crouched nearby, showing no sign of the tension that had long since forced him to sit. She was focused, yet relaxed, constantly alert to any unusual sounds, but never jumping at shadows. Her composure had been inspiring, for the first few hours, but now it was simply irritating.

For what felt like the millionth time, he ran his gaze over the same old clearing, seeing the same old nothing he'd been familiar with for some time now. He'd even started to tune out the occasional rumblings of the monster scurrying about its nest below.

The first such occurrence had seemed to him like a minor earthquake. The ground had shook, startling him out of a rather _inappropriate_ daydream starring his companion, and he'd dropped the crossbow bolt he'd been nonchalantly twirling between his fingers. Bianca hadn't twitched a muscle, save to shoot him a mischievous, almost mocking smirk.

_"Try not to fall asleep again, Newbie."_

Even now the words echoed around his head, goading him, frustrating him. He was supposed to prove himself to this woman, but how was he supposed to do that when there was _nothing_ to do?

He stretched, working out some of the stiffness in his arms, and glanced at his new boss. "They're a bit late reporting in," he said. "I'm going to have a poke around."

"Don't go too far."

Slowly, he eased himself to his feet, stamping his boots on the floor to force some feeling back into his legs, and started to pick his way down the mountain face. The footing was solid, and the slope wasn't too sheer, but the descent to the clearing below still took some time.

Feet back on the ground, he wiped the sweat from his brow and checked his gear. Everything seemed to be secure, so he began to stomp his way towards the treeline. Again, it was slow going. Entire tree-trunks lay across the ground, uprooted by the Vartarrel, or perhaps by the Tevinters during their initial capture of the beast.

He'd navigated his way past the worst of them and was approaching the edge of the clearing when he heard Bianca call his name. Turning to her, he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, which was hanging low over the ridge of the mountain.

"They went north, Newbie. Not south."

Varric growled in frustration. The woman was beginning to get insufferable. Sat up on her rock; laughing down at him. If Bartrand wasn't expecting him to _befriend_ the woman, he'd certainly not be putting up with such treatment.

_Only I probably would._ He had to admit it. Even after all the trials, the mocking looks, the way she openly laughed at him when he said something to prove his inexperience, he found himself respecting the woman in a way he hadn't anyone before. Not even his brother.

Varric wasn't quite sure what it was about her. It was probably something to do with honour or integrity, or some such. Not something he was considered an expert in, at any rate.

He refused to move, reticent to respond openly to her teasing. Instead he squinted, shielded his eyes and took a measured study of the clearing. The heavy sunlight bore down upon his vision like a weight, and it took him a moment to compose himself.

Several gnarled shadows depicted trees, yet it was another more rigid and spiny structure that caught Varric's attention. He realised quickly, of course, that it was probably the cage that had been used to detain the Varterral. He wasn't sure why, but he made his way over, a little curious to see this work of the Tevinter Magisters. As the cage came into clearer view, he could see where its destruction had been caused by the fury and flurry of huge arachnid like legs. As he approached the darkened shadow, he was surprised to find himself sharing Bianca's apparent venom for the venture. How could anyone take something from the mountainside it called home and shove it in such a cruel prison? It was now right before his eyes, spikes and twisted spears of black steel stood warped and crushed before him. Such a bizarre thing to witness on the bleak yet green peaks of Sundermount. A chink of metal beneath his boots made him take pause and look to the ground beneath his feet.

To Varric's immense surprise the vast door that lay before him was almost completely unscathed from the creature's outburst.

Now, he hadn't dealt with many cages that were big enough to hold anything but nugs, but he'd never known _anything _to escape a cage with the door completely intact.

The solitary chink of a small piece of flint seemed to betray itself in the now waning sunlight. The merchant crouched and retrieved it from the ground for inspection. A lock-bolt to be certain… or it _had_ been before it had been keenly bashed from behind by something blunt; and probably metal judging by the precise laceration at the tip. A metal hilt, perhaps?

_Seriously? That thing getting out was no accident? _

Varric pushed such thoughts from his mind. What was it to him if it was an accident or not?

Yet still, he did not return the finger-like weight of metal to the ground. He held it closer to his nose to further his inspection. There was a focus around the very centre in the width of the lock… A smaller hilt? Something _thinner_ than the sword he had previously considered? With a specific tip…

He sighed and dropped the curious piece of metal into his chest pocket, before turning to make his way back to Bianca. He had had his walk, and had his fun. Now it was time to get back to business... and crouching…

He took one more gaze at the warm sun, and the dusk that was encroaching in hues of pinks and purples on the mountainside. He mused with some amusement that Bartrand would probably have had him shot if he had ever realised the romantic way in which his brother gazed at the world sometimes. He had made a note long ago never to _entertain _Bartrand with any of his stories.

Somewhat achingly and begrudgingly, he made his way back to the slope. However as he reached the base, Varric paused and his breath hitched.

Did he hear _voices_ up there? Bellam and Ferdinand had snuck passed him?! The bag of bones and the cutlery drawer?!

_"Where is the Varterral, bitch?"_

_"Like I'd tell you, nug humper."_

His blood ran cold, and for a moment, Varric's heart stalled. Were these the Tevinters Bianca had been so worried about? He had been admiring the sunset and they had just waltzed in behind him. He cursed, and prepped his crossbow. In the back of his mind, he knew the chance to prove himself had been presented, but all he could think about were his quaking limbs, and his desire to save the woman who obviously was facing off enemies a few metres above his head.

He made his way up the scree, with as much care, speed and stealth as he could muster. It seemed that the battle that commenced above his head was enough to distract the enemies and reward his efforts, he eased himself into a hidden position where he could see the scene playing out and took aim.

Bianca held off a number of warriors… _lesser_ warriors by the judge of things. He'd have taken aim in sincerity if he'd thought he had a chance at hitting with half the accuracy the flurry of her daggers attained, and they were taking out the men one by one with a deliberate succession.

A glow of red to his left caught his eye, and a figure he had not previously noticed in regal robes tossed an aureate and bloodied hue of light between his hands, his gaze seemingly fixed on the small woman who ably held off a number of his underlings.

Varric knew it was bad news.

Without thinking, his crossbow was cast aside and his legs moved with a mind of their own. They barrelled towards Bianca, who dispatched her current enemy and shot Varric a shocked and confused expression. But before she could engage her next foe or speak the warning tore from his own throat, "GET DOWN!"

He threw himself at her and tackled her to the ground, feeling a ripping pain that seemed to tear through his back as he jumped to pull her down. He fell to the ground, very much aware of the grit and the stones that he crashed into. He was aware of her voice, calling his newly appointed name '_Newbie._' He could feel her grip on his shoulders as she turned him onto his back, tight at first but then loosening as she surged forward beyond him, he heard Fernando's welcome battle charge reach his ears and the whistle of Bellam's bolts thunder forth…

_"You'll regret this. Hadriana will see to that…"_

Varric's gaze swivelled to the darkening blue above him. His eyes were heavy and the pain that now throbbed throughout his body was unbearable.

His eyes shut against his will, and the last things he was aware of were the numerous footsteps that thundered into the distance and beyond comprehension… and Bianca's voice that called his name.

…

"_What?!" _Varric pouted as the elf's eyebrow raised dramatically.

"That is hardly 'handing Hadriana's own backside to her'…"

"… I'm not up to that bit yet…"

"Hmmmmm…"

"Why are you so obsessed with this broad anyway?"

"You don't want to know…"

"Are you drunk…?" The dwarf chuckled, rather cack-handedly topping up his own glass… ignoring the slops of ale that poured to the table.

"Maybe… "

"Should I continue?"

"…proceed…"

…

"Back in the land of living, I'm glad to see… Mother _will_ be pleased…"

Varric grunted, his mouth and throat were dry as bone. "Well she would if she weren't in the sodding stone." He croaked. Although intended to be a joke, the humour seemed to fall flat with his raspy tone.

"Bah… you're breathing, that's what matters… and it seems that you did what I sent you to do so I got no complaints…"

The young merchant looked up into the whiskery face of his brother. "Is she alright?"

"Is _she_ alright? She basically carried you back and gave me hell for having the nerve to send you up Sundermount without proper gear!"

"Ball-buster till the end, eh?" He smiled fondly and settled back more comfortably into the bed he was lain upon.

"Although I do have one question, besides pissing off a Tevinter Magister you picked up _this_…"

Varric focused on the small metal bolt in front of his eyes. "…And…?"

"What's your expert opinion, Brother? You seem the most handy with brainwork…?"

"Someone bopped it out with a hilt… so? Probably just a pissed off elf…"

"Hmmmm… well get rested, Brother, we'll have plenty of work when we're appointed members of the Carta."

"I'm not sure we're allowed in just yet, Bartrand."

The dark snicker of the man beside him made him oddly reassured yet a little frightened at the same time. "Trust your brother, Varric."


	6. Gathering Storm

This one ran away from me a bit... please read and review!

...

"And do you solemnly swear to serve the needs of the Carta above your own…?"

"I solemnly swear… you might have to ask Bartrand that more than once though."

"What?"

"… Well if he's saying 'yes' you might need to make sure he heard you right." The merchant's chortle was swiftly silenced by the woman's unimpressed expression. She knew how to put men in their place, it was a lesson he should have learned well by now.

"Will you take this seriously?" Her eyes swung to gesture to the snoring, drooling old man propped up in his regal looking chair behind her.

"Oh come _on_," Varric rolled his eyes dramatically, though he obediently kept his voice low. "It's not like the old fart can hear…"

"That '_old fart_' is my grandfather and overseer of the Carta in Kirkwall." Bianca responded coolly, though the merchant noticed with some satisfaction a smile tug at the sides of her mouth. "Now pay attention, you're going to have to sign this in a minute."

Varric sighed, "Can't I just _read_ it then…?"

"…Are you saying you don't like the sound of my voice, Newbie?"

Varric felt heat rush to his cheeks. Had he imagined her tone lower to an almost dulcet quality? _Of course he had, don't be so ridiculous. _"…No."

"Well shut up then, and do as you're told."

Face well and truly burning, the dwarf nodded in reply. "Fine."

"Good. Let's try that again… since you seem to be finding this so difficult… Do you solemnly swear to serve the needs of the Carta above your own…?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to live by our laws?"

"Yes."

"No matter how much they don't make business sense…?"

"…That's not on the parchment…"

"You calling me a liar?"

"I promise…" He grumbled with an aggravated sigh.

"Do you promise to always consider the needs of your brothers and sisters in the Carta?"

"… I take it that doesn't include Bartrand?"

"I can do this all day, Newbie…"

"Fine. Yes, yes… brothers and sisters of the Carta… got it…"

"Fantastic… only took twice as long as it needed to…" Bianca twisted the paper in her hands and slammed it on the nearby table. The sturdy wooden structure shuddered and the merchant stifled the snigger as the old man in the corner sprang to life and leaned forward, as if he had been eagerly watching the proceedings all along and had not, in fact, been sound asleep. "Sign here." The quill was shoved into his hand, as if to pull him from his amusement, though her serious and somewhat anxious frown was more than enough to do that.

"Bianca…?"

"Honour before blood, Newbie." Her voice was deliberate, and her expression one of reflection… almost one of _concern_.

"What? That's not on the..."

"It's on _my _list. Honour before blood."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"Just remember it. Now sign the damn contract and report in to Bellam, he's got a little job for you."

….

The grey bearded dwarf had to shield his eyes against the midday sun, as he made a show of studying the worthiness of Varric's last shot. It could be his eyes giving way to his years, or it could have been the low light of the sun bearing down on his vision, either way, he didn't need long to know that the results didn't make for pretty viewing.

"You're not very good at this are you?"

"It's windy." The young dwarf complained feebly, although he knew it was useless. There was no excuse for such a pitiful attempt.

"You can blame the air all you want, but I bet you I could make a better shot in a hurricane."

"Well I guess we'll never know."

"That's what _you_ think. Anyway, guess I'd better teach you the basics for now."

"Pull the trigger?" Varric asked, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He knew the poor shot was a result of his own shortcomings, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit it to this old bastard.

"You idiot, what do you think affects your shot staying true…? and if you tell me the Maker being pissed off I'll…"

"Wind." The merchant responded dejectedly.

Varric's mentor chuckled, "Good, good. Not that you can use that shit excuse today but yes, that's the first thing a decent archer must look at before we take a shot."

"The first thing? How are you supposed to control the sodding wind?"

"You're not. You're _meant_ to take better control of your shot, rather than shooting like a blind, deaf, blundering idiot. You think Bianca targets an enemy without taking everything into consideration? The terrain? The position of the targets? The nature of the enemy's attack? Where her comrades are? We must consider all these factors in different order, but they are factors all the same."

Varric chuckled drily, though it was a vain attempt to hide his curiosity and intrigue. "I usually find just pointing and shooting works."

The sage's withering look and gesture to the evidence of his recent poor effort was enough to make Varric's blood boil and his shame flare. "You weren't so confident in your…" he paused, searching for the word, "_technique,_ when Bianca was in danger."

"I saved her, didn't I!?" The red-faced objection began, only to be abruptly cut off.

"You did. By throwing yourself in front of her and nearly getting yourself killed. Ask yourself, boy, why didn't you take the shot? It would have saved you both a world of trouble."

"I…" Thoughts pulsed through his head; it had all been so fast. He knew rationally that the wind had been too strong, crouched on that rocky peak. He knew that the shot had been difficult with all the movement in the battle, Bianca's swift movements not being the least of complications. Yet when he thought back, all he knew is that when he saw that red light and the robed figure, face contorted into a disgusting look of hate- eyes fixed on Bianca- he had just _moved_. There was nothing else. He had reacted and that was it. "I don't know… I just… didn't think."

"Well," Varric took a strange amount of comfort from the hand that rested on his shoulder "For what it's worth, I'm glad you did. Wind that high you'd probably have missed the shot anyway… and that girl is like a daughter to me. Guess what I'm saying, boy, is 'thank you'. You were a hero that day…"

"Heh, I thought you said it was idiotic?"

"Heroic… Idiotic… same thing. Leave that to the rest of them boy, heroes don't keep people they love for long. Now you're with us, you listen to me. We play it safe and keep them safe. It's up to us to be the brains, see? I can tell you've got some smarts in there… it's time to start using them."

"Right, I get it. 'Brothers and sisters of the Carta'…"

The dry and somewhat vehement snort from the old man made him jump, and he looked to Bellam curiously. "… 'Brothers and sisters of the Carta'… not heard that in a long time… nor seen much evidence of it. There's a _war_ amongst us, boy, you've not seen the battle lines yet but they're there. There's a hurricane blowing this way, mark my words. _That's_ why it's time to learn how to shoot true in a storm."

Varric felt a strange shudder come over him, and the breeze that he had imagined before seemed to cling to his skin. Bianca's words came back to him with a haunting eeriness and relevance: _Honour before blood. _

Was this what she had meant? He would have to betray Bartrand to fight in this war alongside her? But how would that even make sense?

"I don't understand, a war between who? The old man seems fairly comfortable."

"Aye, in his retirement chair. Let's just say there are 'differences in opinion' in how this operation should be run after he… _goes_. The Carta used to be a sworn dwarven brotherhood, yet there are those who would hire petty cut-throats to save themselves the coin. But that's what happens when tradition fades to the stone."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to know. You think you got in to the inner circle with no expectations? You think that every waif that comes through the doors wanting to join the Carta even gets to _see_ that old contract? Boy, you're here because you've been _chosen_. I don't know how your brother rode the same wave you made, but you're here and I'm going to make _damned_ sure you're alive long enough save her arse again, in case I'm _not_. Bianca is one straight arrow, let's hope we don't lose her in this storm."

….

The bar was busy, though nothing like the Hanged Man. Most of the rickety chairs were occupied, but the dwarf had no problem locating his brother; sitting alone by the window and staring absently through it… straight at an imaginary horde of gold, if Varric was any judge. In an uncharacteristically generous move, there were _two_ tankards of ale sitting on the table.

He sauntered over and eased himself into the chair beside Bartrand. He glanced absently out of the window, unimpressed with the vision of miserable looking buildings and rain spattered glass.

Varric's arms ached, though he hardly noticed over the throbbing in his eyes and the tautness of his shoulders. Even so, he was hardly dissatisfied with the day's events. He felt stronger, more sure of himself. Realistically, he knew it was ridiculous to imagine he might have improved so much in one day, but Bellam had opened his eyes to a new approach; a _smarter_ way to operate, and that made him feel better no end. He actually felt quite smug as he accepted the tankard before him and smiled at the scowl on Bartrand's face.

"What are _you_ so full of yourself for? Where were you when _I_ needed you?"

"Target practise."

"… Target practise?" The flat tone and arched eyebrow told Varric that his older brother wasn't impressed. _Shame._

"You heard right."

"Mind if I ask _why_ you were wasting your day with such nonsense while _I_ was breaking my back setting up our first deal?"

Varric took a sip from his tankard. Pure piss-water, as expected. The younger dwarf gazed longingly at his brother's mug, certain that whatever was in _that_ one would be of far better quality. **_That _**_would be characteristically generous,_ the younger dwarf mused to himself with some sarcasm.

He had been looking forward to another day spent with Bellam and his crossbow, but it seemed a pale hope now as his mind flooded with images of dragging Bartrand's gear up hills all day. No, not hills… _mountains_. While the lazy bastard made a huge show of reading a map and getting dressed in the morning.

"… I thought you wanted to join the Carta because other people did that _for_ you?" He sighed.

Bartrand chuckled. It was a disturbing sound, which he had always likened to the beginnings of a landslide. It usually meant he was scheming something far more sinister than Varric could ever have dreamt up. Far from getting used to it, the years had taught him to expect the worst when he heard that laugh.

"Aye… but it takes a true blood hound to sniff out the best deal."

Varric rolled his eyes, trying to supress the chill that crept down his back. "Can't you even _try_ to stay on the straight and narrow for five minutes?"

"There's a reason they need maps to find treasure, brother. You don't find hidden gold by walking the 'straight and narrow'."

"Right… forget I asked." He took a long drink from the tankard clutched in his hand before looking back to the older dwarf. "Well whatever it is, _you_ might not take your vows seriously but _I_ do, and I don't want any part in it."

"Vows?" Bartrand asked. The way his expression simply collapsed shocked Varric as much as it frightened him. "_What_ vows?"

"What do you mean?" Varric replied, confused. "The contract…"

"**_Contract_**?!" Varric jumped as Bartrand's tankard crashed to the table. "That bitch…"

Varric's jaw flapped up and down. He didn't know what was going on, but his bad feeling had increased ten- fold. "Brother, I don't understand…"

"What was on that contract? What did you agree to?" The eruption seemed to have subsided, but now his brow was knitted and he chewed his thumb in thought… Varric knew calculating rage when he saw it.

His mouth suddenly very dry, Varric took a massive swig from his pint. Although he knew that it would do nothing to wet his throat, he used the opportunity to order his thoughts. He didn't know what to say… largely because he didn't know what had upset his brother so much; but he was fairly certain that being completely honest would only make matters worse.

"Just to follow orders when asked and pull my own weight… the usual…"

Bartrand didn't look convinced, though his darkened expression seemed to lift a shade or two. He grunted and returned to his drink. "That bitch thinks she can outsmart me… well let's see how _she_ likes being played… Varric, you'll do as _I_ say. She orders you to do something, you tell me before you do it; she tells you to follow her, you tell me _where_…"

"No offense," cut in a new voice abruptly, "but that sounds like stalker-ish behaviour to me… and you aren't someone I want that kind of attention from."

Varric felt relief and terror in equal measure. The two brothers twisted in their chairs as Bianca strode across the bar towards them. The tavern's patrons fell silent as she passed, then began to quietly resume their conversations in newly hushed tones as she stopped to stand, hands on hips, at the dwarfs' table.

_Damn! She was quiet._ Varric had no idea how long she'd been there, but it was a fairly safe assumption that she had witnessed his blunder before announcing herself.

"You bitch…" Bartrand wasted no time with his confrontation. He rose to his feet, though Varric noticed with some amusement that he did not close what little distance lay between them, nor did he raise his voice for fear of attracting attention. "We had a deal."

"We had a deal that I would put you both forward for the Carta's consideration, I never agreed to vouch for you."

"You vouched for my brother…"

"He's better looking," she replied, shooting Varric a wink that he knew full well was for Bartrand's benefit alone. "You know damn well who vouched for you, git-features. You knew before you even came to me with your 'deal'."

"What can I say… you should have chosen the smarter brother. I don't take risks… That's what being a _merchant_ is all about."

Suddenly, Bianca leaned in close and grabbed Bartrand by the beard, yanking him forward so that his throat pressed against the blade of the knife she had produced from stone-knew where.

"You say 'merchant', I say 'coward'. But whatever you are, know that I have my eye on you. You may have gotten my sister to vouch for your place in our ranks, but it is _me_ who decides who's in the inner circle, _not_ her and _not_ you."

Varric had seen Bianca irritated before, but this was the first time he'd witnessed her ire… and it was terrifying. Her stance was languid, save for the tautness in her arms, giving the distinct impression of someone who would kill you without a second thought… but just couldn't be bothered right now. Her face made a solemn expression, her lips thin and her eyes narrowed.

"I say it's time for a change in leadership." Bartrand forced out through gritted teeth, though so quietly that Varric wondered if anyone else was meant to hear it. Either way, Bianca did. She dumped him unceremoniously in his chair, and leaned forward so that she towered over him.

Satisfied that they weren't to be today's punching bag, several patrons had edged themselves closer to get a clearer view of the 'action', though judging by the way his brother was looking like he was about to piss his pants, he doubted that they'd see much… unless Bianca was feeling particularly brutal.

"Then it's a good thing for me that _no one_ gives a shit what you say, isn't it?" Bianca stared at him, her eyes a mixture of cold fury and burning wrath. Varric was glad he had remained seated; he could only imagine the fear of someone on the wrong end of that glare. "Now piss off back to my sister, I have business with my newest recruit."

She stepped to one side to allow him to make his escape, but Bartrand couldn't seem to resist one last attempt at bravado.

"You'll regret this…" he sneered at her as he stood up. "One day, I'll make you sorry."

Bianca's hand shot out, seized Bartrand's shoulder and dragged him from the table, almost shoving him towards the door with one movement. He lost his footing and crashed to the floor, punctuated by several sniggers from observers.

She stared down at him, and Bartrand returned her gaze with an expression of contempt.

However, to Varric's absolute amazement and everyone else's amusement, she smirked and shook her head. "Then I shall tremble with fear until you come and put me out of my misery. Now _sod off_."

Varric was aware of heavy, retreating footsteps as Bianca crashed into the chair beside him, gestured to the bar keep who replied with a nod and turned to face her companion smilingly… almost as if nothing had happened.

"Did you not read the bit on the contract where you're not meant to tell anyone you've seen it…?"

"… What?" His already pounding heart seemed to stop still in his chest.

Varric couldn't hide the scowl when she creased up laughing. "Oh come on, Newbie, don't be mad." She clapped him on the back affectionately, "You've got to have some fun."

"… Do you keep 'being shit scary' on tap or something…?" The young dwarf enquired, bemused by the woman's bizarre behaviour.

She smiled at the barkeep as he placed the mug of ale in front of her. "On the house, Bianca." He told her, taking his leave. She nodded her thanks.

"Something like that…" She replied, taking a sip. "I don't want anyone to fear me… unless they are looking for _me_ to fear _them_."

"Fair enough. So what was this deal with Bartrand?"

She snorted, "Your brother blackmailed me into putting you both up for consideration."

"That doesn't surprise me at all… but what the hell would he have on you?"

She cast him a sideward stare, one which he was sure was meant to be meaningful but he didn't have the slightest clue as to why. Eventually she gave up and rolled her eyes, "Don't worry about it. Your brother keeps his nose so close to the ground he's bound to get some dirt when he's looking."

"So you didn't want _me_ in either?"

"…Next question, Newbie."

Varric stalled for a moment, he liked the Bianca he was currently with, he had no desire to see her revert back to terrifying mode… and if he pushed this he knew he was risking it. "Come on, if I'm only here because of Bartrand what was with all that 'blood before honour' stuff?"

"I called you 'handsome' before, you know. You only get one compliment a day so stop pushing for more. There's a reason your nug-humper of a brother is upset about you taking the vow… he didn't get invited. Now…"

A thought occurred to him, and he interrupted her. "Bellam said something about a war, is there something going on…?"

She rolled her eyes and her smile thinned a little. "Inquisitive, aren't we? I take it the old coot didn't go into it much?"

"He said something about 'tradition fading'…" He struggled to find his words for a moment, trying to work out _exactly_ how to phrase what he had understood from his earlier conversation; fortunately Bianca took pity on him and put him out of his misery.

"When dwarves first came to the surface, they moved in groups of people they knew and people they trusted. Eventually, with our numbers swelling on the surface and especially in cities it became infeasible to know and trust everyone you worked with. So the Carta came up with a code of rules to live by… the rules that you agreed to when you signed that contract. To join our ranks, you must be nominated by a chief member of the Carta for consideration, but unless a chief member vouches for you the contract is never presented. We may have originally started out as casteless dwarves from Dust Town, and that reputation may have stuck with us, but when we first came to the surface we were determined to do things right by the stone."

"So that makes Bartrand basically a mercenary in contact with the Carta?"

"Exactly. That's the way it's always been. Only more and more people come forward, wanting to be nominated… trouble is they're not always of a trust-worthy nature even by _our_ standards, if you catch my drift. They want in, and they want the quick way to make as much money as possible. Trouble is, once you sign that contract you agree to follow _our_ rules and our rules aren't so much about making money… but maintaining our honour and doing right by one another. We've had a few bastards run off doing their own thing bearing the Carta's name… they made their money, but our reputation suffered for it… and as you can imagine that only attracts the lowlifes willing to skin a child for a copper."

"Right, so I get that… that's the tradition fading, but if you don't let them in they can't do anything about it, right?"

Bianca's clicked her tongue, seemingly annoyed for the first time since Bartrand's less than gracious exit. "Cue my baby sister. She's under the bizarre impression that we should accept the low-lives, _and_ our new status among them despite all our work to change that… all our _ancestors_ work. She's after running the operation, and if she had a brain in that head of hers I might let her. I think she's taking cash in exchange for putting people forward for nomination, kept bringing me all manner of cut-throats. Eventually I caught wise and ended it… as you can imagine neither her nor her 'clientele' were particularly happy with me."

Varric shook his head. It seemed so complicated, yet so simple at the same time… "But if you're in charge, what else can she do? Sulk in a corner that you didn't let her buddies play?"

"She's got a _lot_ of back-up."

"_You've_ got the inner circle."

"Somehow I think a hoard of axe-wielding beserkers are likely to overcome a group of old men clinging desperately to their traditional ideals. But we shall see when the time comes… now, curiosity sated? Good. I've got a little job for you…"

…

_Fenris looked skeptical, his eyebrow arched and his lips pursed._

_"What?!" Varric couldn't help but ask._

_"The __**dwarven**__ Carta once had honour… I'm more inclined to believe that Bianca __**was**__ a nug in the first place…"_

_"Hey, those in Dust Town had it rough… cast aside for being…. Well… 'casteless', you can't judge people for wanting to change their fate. In fact __**you**__ of all people should understand…"_

_Fenris gave a weary sigh, a combination of the weight of drink and the weight of the tale draining his energy. "Fair enough… but I've never heard of the Carta being known for their honour… only for being heartless…"_

_"They were trying to get away from that, that's why they came to the surface… until…"_

_"I take it their efforts were in vain?"_

_"… call for some whiskey, Elf. This is where it starts getting heavy."_


	7. Fool's Errand

Another chapter that got away from me... Thank you for the reviews and follows guys, hope you enjoy this chapter too!

Please read and review :)

* * *

"…_a few months passed without much event. I got better with the crossbow true, but I can't say I had much reason to use it. Bartrand was up to something, I knew that; but since the incident at the tavern he mostly kept his plans from me. At the time it was a welcome break… but now I look back… well… I wish I'd kept my ear a little closer to the ground…"_

"Good work today, boy." Bellam smiled warmly, giving the young dwarf an affectionate pat on the back. "You're getting damned near as skilled as I!"

Varric returned the smile and accepted the tankard, pulling the stool away from the table as the older man took seat beside him. "I'd say so… and only in a few months… _how_ old are you again?"

Bellam caught the intended joke before his pupil could deliver the punch line, much to the merchant's disappointment. "Aye, no fear lad. You'll surpass me that's for sure, never seen someone take to the art so naturally. If you live as long as me, I doubt there's many that could raise a candle to you."

Although self-gratification had been the avenue he'd been aiming for, the reflective, almost wistful, way in which his grey-bearded mentor praised him made him immediately uneasy. As surely as he noticed himself improve, he noticed Bellam's limitations. As he felt his strength and deftness grow, he began to notice the stiffness in Bellam's shoulders and the slowed movements of his arms. He knew that these signs could not have simply appeared recently, but he could recognise that the symptoms had worsened since their first practise. It made him feel guilty, if he were honest with himself, although he knew it was a foolishly sentimental notion. Bellam had done nothing since he had started Varric's training but instil one certainty within his young pupil: he was to make himself ready for Bianca, if ever she needed him… leaving the merchant in little doubt that his new mentor doubted his own ability to do the job.

"Way to cut the wings off my joke, Old Man." He grumbled into his ale, a vain attempt to mask his troubled thoughts.

As if reading his uneasiness with an effortless gauge, Varric received another, more supportive clap on the shoulders, and with his other hand Bellam reached for his drink. "Drink up, laddy, there's tomorrow yet to worry yourself with what might be. Now tell me of your adventures last excursion…"

"Not much to tell," Varric obediently eased himself back into his chair. "No trouble…"

"No sign of them damned Tevinters…?"

"Maybe we're being fed some duff information?" Varric agreed, sourly.

"The thought crossed my mind," the sage admitted, "but Ferdinand doesn't give 'duff information', and the latest came from him. He said he'd _seen_ them along the Wounded Coast…"

"Then how the hell did they dodge us _both_…? Did they bring cliff-coloured cloaks?"

"Those Magisters are sneaky, all right. Anything else happen out there?"

"Sorry, I think I've given you all of the pertinent details."

"What can I say? Maybe I meant… _different…_ details." The tight, amused smile and the unmistakeable twinkle in the old man's eyes left Varric in little doubt of what he was being asked.

"Oh _piss off_!" The merchant scowl, feeling heat immediately spread across his cheeks.

"I'm _just saying_…. Ya know, moonlight... alone in the wilds… huddling close to get warm…"

"Murderous mages possibly around every corner, yeah, _screams_ romance…." He rolled his eyes in response to Bellam's obvious jibes.

"Oh! I don't know what's happening with you youngsters. When _I_ was a lad, if you got a handsome lass like Bianca adventuring with you… in the woods… just the two of us…"

"They'd _invented_ adventuring when you were a lad?" It was Varric's turn to smirk, though the mock seemed to do nothing to take the wind out of his mentor's sails.

"Say what you want, at least my eyes aren't so bad I can't _see_ an opportunity like this."

"You weren't saying that at target practice the other day…" Varric erupted into laughter, delighted now that his most recent attempt at mockery had succeeded in stemming the flow of probing queries.

"The sun was shining in my eyes!" The gleeful smirk was replaced by one of bluster and embarrassment.

Bellam's retort died on his lips. He stiffened in his chair and placed the tankard in his hand firmly on the table. A small amount of the golden liquid spilled from the cup, falling in scattered droplets over the aged oak.

Varric twisted in his chair to take in the newcomer. The hair was different: a muddy brown in place of her strawberry blonde, and done up in an unfamiliar, high style. She moved more stiffly… the heavy armour and numerous belts were obviously hindering her, but it wasn't quite that. She simply lacked a certain grace. Her features were hard-set and her eyes glinted malice… yet there was no denying it, she shared Bianca's features. It _had_ occurred to him as slightly odd, that he'd been running with the Carta for a time now and known naught of her other than her name and that she was Bianca's sister. Still, from all that he'd heard of her temperament he counted his blessings that their meeting had been postponed... until now it would seem.

"Ahhh, so this is where my sister's dogs spend their time." Her voice was similar, yet different. Harsher, but not quite so hard. "Would kennels not be more suitable?"

"What an interesting turn of phrase from the bitch herself." Bellam mumbled into Varric's ear before turning to face the newcomer. "Good to see you too, Juvia!" The old archer greeted, courteous to the point of mockery, something not unnoticed by the young woman in front of them.

"Spare me the pleasantries, you bag of bones, for none will be spared for you."

"Really? You seem quite the charmer…" Varric quipped before he could stop himself. He quickly dropped his eyes to avert the glare he was certain was upon him. He was beyond doubt that there were probably more than a few sisterly similarities… and he had no wish to be on the receiving end of that particular one…

"And _you_ must be the latest stupid bastard to join their ranks? Tell me, how much arse _did_ you kiss to get…?"

"_Watch it_, Juvia… he's not the usual duster _you_ boss around. A little respect is due. But then again, respect to your elders is something that seems to escape your understanding…"

"Respect is _earned_, Old Man, and all you have _earned_ from our peers and members alike is indifference and dismissal. All that bullshit you feed my sister about honour and doing things 'right by the stone' is laughable, really… I wish she would just see through you…"

Bellam gave a weary sigh. "I've given you that history lesson enough, we came from Orzammar to…"

"Very good, but what has 'doing right by the stone' achieved? _Nothing_. Being casteless in Orzammar or seen as dwarven scum in Kirkwall… what's the damned difference? Either way we're considered outcasts, either way we're segregated to the shit jobs no one wants and the back alleys no one with any sense wants to live near… I say it's time to take back what we're owed…"

"That's dangerous talk, girl. With things the way they are we can't afford to set anything off…"

"The Knight Captain? You think I fear her?"

"I think you're stupid if you don't. Thanks to _your_ latest hair-brained scheme, what_ever_ it is, the Templars have got us in their sights… don't be _too_ surprised if you find yourself out in the cold before too long… unless of course, you're willing to stop this foolishness…?"

"You know me better than that."

The old dwarf gave an aggravated sigh, one in which Varric was sure he could hear regret, "I'm ashamed to say that I do. But anyway, you're clearly not here for a civilised conversation… what do you want, Juvia?"

"I'm actually here for him." Varric nearly jumped from his chair when her gaze swung to collide with his, he had been staring at her… wondering as to the obvious resemblances and differences between this stern young woman and her older sister, and had become so lost in his thoughts that her sudden attention was unnerving.

"…_me_?"

"I don't see anyone else sitting in that chair. Your brother, have you seen him? He was running an… '_errand'_… for me, and hasn't reported in."

"How should I know? I've hardly seen him…"

"Shit!" She cursed, her face twisted into an expression that Varric wasn't sure what to make of.

He blinked. "No it's not!"

He felt Bellam's stance stiffen beside him and the old man slowly pulled himself to his feet. "Juvia… what's going on…?"

The young woman looked to him, and Varric felt something stir within him. For a second her hardened expression dropped, and she seemed lost. It reminded him of when Bartrand had first come to the surface, when he gazed at a sky and a distance he couldn't possibly comprehend. Looking at something he _knew_ was bigger than him. Only for a moment. Her previous sneer returned swiftly, more unpleasant than ever.

"None of your _damned_ business, Old Man…" She turned, tearing towards the door. Her arm reached for the handle, but before she could grasp it the door slammed violently open, bouncing with considerable force when it hit the wall. Silhouetted against the low evening sun stood the unmistakable frame of Bianca, her clearly confrontational stance made her younger sister back nervously away. She stepped slowly forward, and the bar's patrons seemed to shudder in unison. Her expression was thunderous, her cheeks red. The room fell instantly silent as she herded Juvia against a bannister.

"Little Sister," Bianca acknowledged, her words slow and deliberate, a stark contrast from the demeanour depicted by her expression. A truly chilling sight to behold.

"Bianca." He heard Juvia respond stiffly, setting herself into a defensive stance. Varric couldn't help but be impressed. He'd wilted like a dying flower beneath stares half as fearsome as this.

"Would you care to explain," Bianca began, her tone leaving little doubt that she wasn't asking, "why I just had Meredith in my office, using the words 'Carta' 'Mages' 'Smuggling' 'Gallows' and _'Lyrium'_?!"

He heard the younger sister suck in a breath. "I have no idea-"

"_Don't lie to me!_" Bianca barked, with far less restraint than Varric had ever seen her show. "_Damn it, Juvia_! I thought you were running some errands for mages but _this?! And you lot-!" _Her gaze swung furiously around the room to acknowledge her unwanted spectators, "get back to drinking, unless you want to be guarding wagons along the Wounded Coast for a week! I hear those Qunari _really_ have it in for us at the moment!"

Obediently, although with some nervous reticence, their eyes returned to their tankards, although their attention undoubtedly stayed with their furious taskmaster. Realising this, Bianca swiftly closed the gap between herself and her sister, seized the latter by the arm and dragged her to where Bellam and Varric sat in confusion.

"Did _you_ know about this?" The older sister hissed, her eyes turning to Varric.

"Woah woah…! Know about what?"

"He doesn't know anything about it, Bianca." Juvia growled snatching her arm free. "I am not as swift as you to trust fools…"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, it's not one of _mine_ in the Templar's grasp, is it?"

"I'll deal with it." The younger sister huffed gruffly, making to leave.

"Oh no you _won't_." Bianca stepped in her path, blocking her exit. "You and Git-features have caused quite enough trouble. We need to get him out, and we need to do it quickly. Newbie… we'd better get moving. I know a short cut…"

"I'm sorry…" Varric cut-in, ignoring the glares from both women, "But _what's_ going on… _who_ is in the Templar's grasp?"

The sisters shared a somewhat pained expression, before Juvia's otherwise pleasant features moulded into one of scorn. "Not very quick on the uptake, is he?" She chuckled, in a low laugh that reminded him of Bartrand when he had a suitably shifty plan.

"I'm not taking that from _you._ If I hear you've interfered any further in this business you'll have not only me but the rest of the inner circle to deal with. Bellam, please escort my sister to somewhere where she can't do any more damage."

"…You still haven't told me…"

"You're _brother_, Newbie. Git features has gone and _really_ fucked up this time…"

…

Varric looked down on the dubious looking man-hole with more than a little apprehension. "_That_ thing goes to the Gallows?"

"I'll grant you it's not exactly the scenic route… but yes."

"_Why_, exactly is Bartrand there again?"

"It seems that your repugnant brother and my stupid sister have been involved in a little smuggling operation. They've been taking Lyrium shipments from Orzammar... and then delivering it to mages in the Gallows. Stupid bastards… no wonder the Knight Captain has been asking so many questions lately. Never thought I'd _see_ her in Darktown till the other week…"

"Riiight… so why are we going _towards_ the Templars, then?"

"Because the deal went sour the other end, your brother ran and hid with the Templars in pursuit. _Thankfully_ it doesn't seem like they saw his face, but they know it's a dwarf they're looking for… and I'm not sure I want to find out what tune he will sing if he gets caught. Although I've no doubt Git features is excellent at playing dead when needed, that won't help him get off an island swarming with people out for his blood, will it? Unless he can swim…?"

"You gotta be kidding…?"

"Didn't think so." She chuckled, lifting the grate from the disgusting looking hole in the ground. "Now, in you go… age before beauty and all that…"

"… aren't I younger than you?"

"… are you saying you're better looking too?"

"Would I?" Varric tried to mask the smirk, throwing his hand over his heart as if wounded by such an idea.

"Well then, down you go, Newbie."

Varric clambered down the rotting ladder into the darkness, choking as the vile fumes from the sludge below rose to greet him. "Don't light that lamp down here, Bianca, the place'll blow."

"I see." He heard the voice from above him and a clunk as her foot greeted the first stair. Varric made a point of not looking up to her as she spoke out of respect. Not that he'd have been able to see much in this gloom. "Then tell me, Newbie, would you rather be _stepping_ in it?"

As if she had known he was about to jump down, the question was answered for him when a sickening, sloppy, wet sound greeted him, and the ground slid underfoot. "Point taken."

"Good." He heard her land beside him, and immediately she thrust the cold metal of her lantern into his grasp to hold and began to fiddle with her tinder box. "By the way, Newbie, this passage is only known to a few. I doubt many Templars know of its existence. So if you tell anyone, I may have to kill you. There's a reason I wouldn't bring Juvia this time."

"How did you find it, then?"

Her face was suddenly illuminated as the lantern flared into life. Varric couldn't help but notice how soft it made her features seem. It made his heart jump, and Bellam's twinkling eyes and tight-lipped smile returned to him for a moment. _Dammit old man!_ "You really want to know?"

"Sure… why not?"

"If I tell you, I may have to kill you."

"Let's face it, I run that risk every day with you…"

He was rewarded for his wit with a chuckle, "Fine, fine. I ran into some poor woman by the Docks, turned out she was an apostate. Terrified of those bastards from the Chantry… apparently some years before her sister had been taken away to the damned Gallows and they made her Tranquil. But before they could do it, the sister found out and escaped through this tunnel to say her goodbyes to her family and to tell her little sister- also skilled with magic- of the tunnel's existence, should she ever need to escape her fate. The poor woman had then watched her sister hand herself over to the Templars, knowing full well what destiny awaited her. She wanted me to know about the tunnel, so that if the Templars ever sought to make _her_ Tranquil, she could escape with my help. The plan was that she would write me as soon as she caught the whisper giving us plenty of time to get out."

She caught Varric's quizzical stare. "I wasn't always such a hardened bitch, you know… I was young once, and new to the hardships this city could dish out, so I was moved by her tears, and by her story. I guess you could say we were _friends_ before the Templars took her.

I agreed, of course. And when the letter came I moved into the tunnel ready to help her escape. Only she never came. I'd only known her a short time, but I was worried and I needed to know. So I snuck into the Gallows to find her…."

Varric was a little startled when he heard Bianca's voice choke. She faltered, using the opportunity to strap her weapons on accordingly and adjust her armour while her accomplice still held the torch.

"And then what happened?" He asked dumbly, although he suspected by her wistful and saddened expression that he could make an educated guess.

"Let's just say she didn't cry anymore." She went quiet for a moment. "Come on, Newbie," she said, retrieving the torch from him, "let's move."

….

Other than the occasionally freakish sized rat, they didn't encounter much in the way of hostilities… but as he took in the nauseating smell Varric could understand why. Maker! Even his eyes were watering!

Bianca had questioned his seeming lack of concern for his brother several times, not out of confusion… but out of interest. Truthfully, he'd not known how to respond. He supposed that it was because he'd known Bartrand to be in far bigger messes than this one, and somehow he always seemed to land on his feet… but he knew that there was also another answer, and one he wasn't so ready to admit. So he just shrugged and gave non-committal responses to pacify her.

It hadn't taken long for them to fall into an awkward silence. As much as he wished for Bartrand's well-being, he couldn't help but feel angry that he had been put in this position, why couldn't his brother ever just clean up his own messes? Why couldn't he ever just keep his nose clean? Everywhere they went it was dastardly scheme after dastardly scheme… and he was finding that he'd had just about enough of it.

His thoughts dissolved as he heard harsh voices above them, and Bianca carefully dimmed the lamp; as she did so it became obvious that light filtered into the tunnel up ahead, the broken rays probably indicating some kind of grate. Instinctively, the two crouched, pressing themselves to the tunnel's wall. "Remind me to throw out this coat when we get back…"

"Quiet, Newbie."

"I long for the day that's not my nickname anymore…"

"Well that day will never come if you don't _shut up_ now…" She hissed.

Almost as if on cue, the shadows were broken and the silence that descended upon them was interjected with the clink of mental armour. "Maker curse you, Gotfried! You're bloody hearing things again!"

"I heard voices." The figure closest to them protested. "I'm sure of it."

"Are you sure they weren't the ones in your head, friend?"

"Why you-!"

"QUIET!" A new voice cut in – a woman this time, and with an authoritative tone. A weighted pause punctuated the air above them and Bianca and Varric snuck forward to get a better chance at listening.

"Sorry Knight Captain…"

"Sorry…"

"You better _had_ be. Has the dwarf been apprehended yet?!"

"Ahhh… no, Ma'am."

"Then you'd better find that crafty little sod, hadn't you. I _knew_ something was amiss… But rest assured, gentleman… be it Mages _or_ Templars, _I_. _Will. Have. Order. _Now search every corner!"

The crashing of armour faded and Varric let a sigh rattle out between his teeth. "Well, one thing you can say about Bartrand…"

"He's a sloppy worker?"

"He knows how to make an entrance."

"Both bad things in my book." She grunted. "In any case, let's get out there and find him. I've had enough of skulking around in the dark."

Varric chuckled lowly. "Fortunately for us, something _else_ my brother is good at…"

….

It had not taken them long to find the old exit, and as Varric forced his way through layers of ivy and thorns, he understood just _how_ the Templars could miss such an opening for any would-be fugitives. It took at least five minutes to wade through the dense foliage. _Almost as dense as the bastard we've come to save… _He thought drily.

When they had pierced the thick green veil, they were delivered to a small, pebble littered crevasse behind the daunting looking building. "Any ideas where to look, Newbie?"

"Anywhere there's unattended wallets…?"

"Cute… but not helping…"

"He'll stick to somewhere where's there's lots of columns… that means lots of shadows and_ lots_ of things to hide behind. Know of anywhere?"

"… in front of the Barracks…" She answered flatly. "But he's not that stupid surely?"

"Bartrand has a set of rules he lives by… I'll be surprised if _any_ have adapted over the years."

The woman beside him gave an exaggerated, aggravated grunt of frustration which made Varric smile to himself. "Are _all_ the men in your family so infuriating?"

"Well, I can't say I remember much about my dear old 'Pop' but I _do_ remember my mother hitting him aside the head with her favourite frying pan once or twice…"

"Didn't that dent the metal for cooking?"

"Well yes, but she just kept it for hitting things… that's _why_ it was her favourite…"

"Fair enough… might have to get me one of those, and beat some sense into Juvia and Git features when this is done."

"I'm flattered." Varric grinned at her, as they edged their way closer to the corner of the wall for inspection.

"Why are _you_ flattered?"

"It wasn't so long ago I would have been in line with them, myself."

Her tongue clicked against her teeth, something he had come to recognise as something she did when she just didn't know what to say… and she didn't like it. "You come with your own set of frustrations, Newbie, and don't you forget it. I've got to put up with your sop of a brother for a start…" She took a swift and fleeting glance around the corner before snatching herself back. "There's two round there, easy enough to take out but I'd rather not spill any blood. Only fire your bow if _necessary_… and I mean do it _quickly and quietly, _Newbie. Watch what's going on, don't make any rash decisions."

"Quick question before we brave overwhelming odds to save my 'sop of a brother', by the way…"

"That's another thing, Newbie… your timing is _terrible_…"

"Are you ever going to stop calling me '_Newbie'? _

She gave him a stiff smile as she unsheathed her daggers slowly, "The day I stop calling you 'Newbie' is the day we'll never see each other again… because I'm not likely to meet another like you, for good or ill… now, stick to the shadows, and no sudden movements…"

He watched her move ahead, blending into the shadows as she did so. He waited, observing the surrounding area, all the while keeping one eye one where she _should_ have been.

His patience was rewarded by two muffled cries and the sound of metal being lowered to the ground. "This way!" He heard her hiss, and he followed the sound of her voice swiftly and obediently. To his left he knew instinctively was the entrance to the Barracks, as to his right, just as Bianca described, lay the columned arena.

They fell to a crouch once more, just beside the stairs in the bushes. Varric's eyes darted between the shadows… _where are you, you sneaky bastard?_

His thoughts were drawn back to him when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder and her voice whisper in his ear. "Proceed ahead, find him… I'll watch for any… complications…"

"You always know exactly what I want to hear…"

"Just do it before I find a frying pan…"

Varric snickered, moving swiftly into the shadows, trying to imitate Bianca's movements as he had seen before. Their various excursions over the past few months had taught him a great deal and honed his skills impressively, but he still knew he didn't hold a candle to her. Although that didn't change the fact that he could now hold his own. The fear that would have gripped him months before had now become focus, as his eyes scanned the darkness keenly. He was rewarded after a few moments with a small movement and a hushed, husky voice. "Brother…? That you?"

"Yeah." Varric responded lowly. "No sudden movements, Bartrand, or…"

Being the same old pig-ignorant nug, of course, the ginger bearded dwarf ignored his brother's words and removed himself swiftly from his hiding place, "What in the name of the _Ancestors_ took you so long-?!" A brusque movement from the left and a sharp intake of breath from Bartrand heralded the end of his speech –and consciousness- and marked Bianca's arrival. She lowered Bartrand's limp form to the floor before beckoning Varric over. "Quick, Newbie, grab him and let's go. I'll clear the path. Let's just get _out_ of here before anyone sees…."

Varric dragged his brother over his shoulders and grunted as he took the weight. "Why don't _you_ have to carry him?"

"You've already said you're getting a new coat, no reason I should sully mine. Now _hurry up_, I've just overheard that it's change of guard and they're_ not_ going to wait for us to finish bickering!"

…

_Varric couldn't help but notice the deep chuckle that rumbled from the elf's throat. "Something I said?"_

_"Indeed, wouldn't it have save us a lot of trouble in the Deep Roads if you have just left him in the Gallows?" _

_The drunken snickering did not subside… If Varric were honest with himself, he found it a little unnerving... and more than a little mocking… "I'm glad that you can see the funny side of this…"_

_"It's difficult not to!"_

_"Yeah, well. Some ties are not broken so easily. That's a lesson only learned the hard way, Elf…"_

_"How can you possibly say you are bound to…"_

_"You're frightened to be with Hawke because of what some crazy mage did to you years ago. Make no mistake, Elf, ties that bind seem more like chains sometimes. It's not always an option to walk away… and even if it is, sometimes it's not an option we can take…"_

_"I take it from the way you have lowered your voice and have begun enunciating more deliberately that we are about to press into an important yet tragic point in our tale…?" Fenris reached clumsily for yet more ale and poured it even more clumsily into his mouth. _

_"Very observant, Elf… you're still a dick for pointing it out though."_

_"How bad can it __**possibly**__ be? You evaded the enemy and got your man out…"_

_Varric sighed, a weighted, heavy sigh. No doubt the Elf though it another dramatic touch from a storyteller… he wished he could make him believe how sincere it was. "Aye, we did that. But at a price… and it was a price no one was prepared to pay…"_


End file.
